


you’re just running across my mind

by capmackie



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, M/M, exes!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-30 21:50:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20104156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capmackie/pseuds/capmackie
Summary: wrote some angst for my birthday (!) because I Am The Worst™. anyways, I hope you enjoy!tumblr: capmackie





	you’re just running across my mind

(remember all the moments for two? how we used to..)

Sam’s getting fitted for his tuxedo when it happens. It’s a brief, fleeting moment; Sam’s almost sure he’s hallucinating it, but then the tailor sweeps around him again and Sam knows his mind isn’t playing tricks on him. The scent of Tom Ford’s Neroli Portofino floats through his nostrils and the memories associated with the smell hit him so hard, he stumbles back, only gaining footing again when the tailor steadies him with a questioning glance.

“Sorry”, Sam murmurs, embarrassed that a scent of all things, has completely thrown him off his game. _Bucky. _

His Bucky.

No, wait, Sam scolds himself, shakes his head to clear the thoughts. There is no Bucky here and he definitely isn’t Sam’s anymore. But Sam can’t help himself, he’s a masochist after all, and the smell is so intense it’s almost like he’s right back to where it all began. Sam takes a deep breath and wonders. Wonders if Bucky still wears the same cologne as the one that lingers in the air now. Wonders how the same cologne can smell so sweet on one man and so pungent on another.

_Everything ain’t for everybody._

He lets his mind continue to wonder, let’s it bring up old memories of how that scent invaded every part of his life. How his own clothes and towels and anything else Bucky ever came across always ended up smelling like the man himself. But it’s fitting honestly; Bucky has always known how to insert himself into someone’s life, rooting himself so deeply that it was impossible to not get tanged into his madness, his specific brand of chaos.

And chaos it was; Bucky was a whirlwind of good dick and bad intentions. Bucky was ... something. Standing at almost six feet, with long, dark-hair sweeping his shoulders or alternatively in a bun at the nape of his neck, Bucky was a sight to behold. Wide shoulders, back straight, never slumping, never rounded. It would turn Sam on just to see him walk. Right until Bucky walked out of Sam’s life with no more than an “I’m sorry, I just can’t be the guy you want me to be”. 

***

_Sam knew better to push, knew that any talk of monogamy or any kind of emotion that wasn’t wanton lust would lead to this but he had to try. He was tired of walking on eggshells around someone he would gladly lay down his life for._

_Maybe it’s the drinks coursing through his system, maybe he’s just giddy with the anticipation of spending some alone time with his favorite guy after work has kept both of them apart, maybe it’s the way the Tom Ford straight leg jeans are hugging Bucky’s ass, but Sam can’t help himself, blurts out “I love you” and regrets it immediately, wishes he can pluck the words out of the air and put them back into his big mouth. Bucky tenses up, his usual reaction to anything concerned with emotion, and turns to face Sam, shoulders squared away, about to break Sam’s heart for the umpteenth time._

_The door hadn’t even closed yet but Bucky’s swinging it back open, making his grand escape and Sam jokingly thinks that Bucky stays in such great shape just by running away from his feelings alone. But just as soon as the thought formulates, it’s swallowed by the crushing finality of it all. There’s no promises for a call tomorrow, no goodbye kisses, not even so much as a glance on his way out; Sam knows this is the end. Knows that the right thing to do is to pick up his bleeding heart off of the floor and put it back in his chest but if he put any value into doing the right thing, he wouldn’t have fallen in love with someone who made it clear as day that they couldn’t love him back. So what Sam does instead is pulls out his aged whiskey and drinks till the pounding in his head is louder than the pounding of his heart._

_He gets a text from Bucky the next morning, reads the half-assed apology, deletes the message and vows to forget all about those steel blue eyes that used to let him know where home was._

_***_

A hand placed in the small of his back snaps him out of his memories, a warm smile greeting him. Jace is here as well, the tailor just finishing themeasuring, ensuring the perfect fit for the tuxedo that matches Sam’s. Their wedding is on the horizon and this is one of many stops before the big day, next is checking out the venue.

Shame floods Sam so suddenly, he flinches away from Jace’s embrace, cheeks red and eyes downcast. Bucky hadn’t been a thought in months and Sam’s moved on, is happy and is in love with someone who loves him back. Someone who isn’t afraid to hold his hand in public, someone who runs into his arms and not away from them, someone who is absolutely perfect for Sam in every way and yet.

_BuckyBuckyBucky_

Jace senses something is off about his fiancé (and of course he does, he’s so in tuned with Sam he automatically knows when something’s amiss) and jokingly asks if Sam’s getting cold feet.

Sam doesn’t have cold feet; knows without a shadow of a doubt that he loves Jace with all of his heart and can’t wait to have his last name and a golden Lab named Falcon and a house with a white picket fence. But if there’s a phrase for when you’re on your way to marital bliss but a longing for someone else which had been repressed for years and is now roaring in waves that threaten to take you under and keep you there... he has that.

Sam doesn’t have cold feet, he has cold hands and an irregular heartbeat and a pain so deep in his chest he doesn’t think he can breathe. Sam has two years of memories flood him instantaneously; some good, most of them bad but there’s a feeling there, at the root cause of them that he can’t place his finger on.

The solid, gold band on his finger grounds him a bit and brings back to the present, sweat prickling him around the collar. He comes to at the sound and feel of Jace but he’s in the fitting room alone somehow; Sam doesn’t think too much of it, Jace is always on the move, almost reminds him of Bucky, frantic and strung tight, always on to the next thing. He doesn’t let himself think about that comparison too long.Instead, he goes out to talk about designs of suit jackets and such, and runs into that oh so familiar scent again, runs into someone he wished never to see again. It’s Bucky, it’s _his_ Bucky, except it’s totally fucking not. This is a new Bucky, with a new look; no more long tresses and a metal arm now on his left side.

Sam wants to know more, doesn’t know if he still has access to someone who tossed him to the side two long years ago. Sam wants to find the tailor and his fiancé who has mysteriously disappeared in the alteration shop. Sam wants to run and never look back and is about to do that when Bucky turns around and they make eye contact.

Shit.

**Author's Note:**

> wrote some angst for my birthday (!) because I Am The Worst™. anyways, I hope you enjoy!
> 
> tumblr: capmackie


End file.
